A Friendly Visit
by biilboard-dinosaur
Summary: Draco Malfoy has a migraine and is in a terrible mood when he's called up to the Headmistress's office for a hopefully short rendezvous. Unfortunately, he falls down, accidentally ends up 70 years in the future, and has a surprisingly pleasant visit with himself (this shouldn't be a surprise, of course-Draco Malfoy is nothing but enjoyable).


This oneshot started as a joke, but I hope you enjoy it not only for the silliness, but also for the message of hope I tried to convey.

Cheers!

* * *

Draco Malfoy had fallen down. He was on his way up the spiralling stairs to the Headmaster's office when the gargoyle closed and Draco discovered he had a migraine. He had experienced the typical aura phenomenon—the zig-zagging light and bright flashes, the weakness in his knees. _Perfect timing_, Draco thought, when he regained his balance and remembered he had forgotten to take his daily potion that morning. With his migraine explained—the preventative medication having been forgotten, Draco continued up the stairs, knocked on the door, and then let himself in after a distant "Come in!" was heard.

So Draco Malfoy walked over to one of the chairs and began to rub the back of his neck, hoping to relieve some of the tension there. He had closed his eyes in order to block out any light.

"It'll be just a moment!"

Draco heard the same voice coming from the room off to the side. It was a man. What on earth happened to McGonagall? Had she been a he all this time? Or was she about to transition? Draco was not prepared for this sort of situation. Of course, he had a cousin that was transgender, but the last time he saw—Draco paused. He couldn't remember. How embarrassing.

But before he could begin to muse about this, the door opened, revealing not a transgender McGonagall or even a cis-gender McGonagall, but a complete and utter stranger. This stranger's salt-and-pepper hair was still remarkably thick despite the obvious age. The beard was kept trim—_what a nice change_, Draco thought—_but that outfit is very odd_. While it looked very well put-together, the style was strange. _He may be foreign_. _McGonagall may be having an affair_. And then Draco looked up and saw he had glasses. Rectangular, Draco noted. But when Draco saw his eyes, he just stared blankly.

"Oh, wow," the man said, blinking a few times. "He never told me about this."

Draco still didn't know what to say because this person—he looked so _familiar_ but Draco was still trying to remember his transgender cousin's name and so he couldn't understand what was going on. He did have a migraine after all.

"I was not expecting this. Wow," the man repeated. "I don't know what to do. Maybe—should I go get him? Or is that dangerous. Oh, wow. I need to sit down."

The man walked over to the headmaster's chair and sat down.

"Where's Professor McGonagall?" Draco said and then cursed himself silently. _Of all things to ask_.

But the man nodded, "She's not the headmaster right now. You're out of time. Not too far. But you're definitely in the future. Wow. You look so young."

"Excuse me," Draco said, offended. "I am not young. I'm almost eighteen."

"Seventh year, then?" the man said. He must be the headmaster, Draco reasoned. He was old, and was sitting in the chair and had started to play with some of the objects on the desk. Only the owner would do that.

"Yes," Draco said. "I'm sorry if this is blunt, but who are you?"

The man's eyes widened for a second. "You don't even recognise me? I must look older than I thought. This is horrible for my self-esteem."

Draco just looked at the man for a second. "I'll admit that you familiar, but I have a migraine and I can't remember my cousin's name either. I can't be expected to—hey, where are you going?"

"I'll be right back! Stay put!" The man said before disappearing back into the room he had originated.

Draco sighed and started to massage his temple—rubbing his neck hadn't worked. All this talking and confusion was just making things worse.

But before Draco even waited a full minute, the man returned with what looked like—

"What the fuck," Draco said while taking the glass from the man. "How do you know my medication?"

"Because I know you," the man said.

"You'd have to know me pretty damn well to figure this out though. I haven't told anyone about my prescription," Draco said.

"I'm aware," the man said. "The recipe isn't exactly family-friendly considering what it requires."

There was silence for a moment while the potion began to take effect. The migraine was already leaving.

"Who are you?" Draco said.

The man said, "Harry Potter."

And then Draco said, "Fuck."

And then the door where Harry Potter—an _old_ Harry Potter—came from opened again and there, in the doorway, looking just as strangely refined as Harry, was Draco Malfoy. But a different one. Not Draco, but an older Draco.

"Damn, I was short," the old Draco said.

Draco just looked between the two blankly. "What the—are you two—he just—" Draco said but then stopped because he was making a fool of himself.

Harry Potter was ignoring Draco in favour of the older Draco Malfoy. Harry smiled. Draco supposed it could be a nice smile if he wanted to think it was. "Do you want tell me why I was never forewarned about this visit?"

"I might have forgotten about it up until five seconds ago," the old Draco said. "I'm not sure how that works. But I never remembered this conversation. I would've told you otherwise. And I'm old. So whatever."

"I'm sure. So what do we do with him?" Harry said, gesturing to the still confused Draco in the armchair.

"We just talk for a bit. It's kind of boring, honestly, other than the fact that I somehow travelled forward in time 70 years."

"Wait, so you're both eighty?" Draco asked.

"Almost eighty-eight," the old Draco said. "Seventy years exactly."

Harry smiled. "Well, seeing the two of you side-by-side makes me positive I'm the luckiest man in the world. You haven't changed a bit."

"Luckiest man? Don't tell me you're dating him," Draco said.

"I won't," Harry said. "We're married."

And then Draco said, "Fuck."

"We've been married for what—almost 60 years?" the old Draco said.

"We were best friends for three years, then we dated for seven, and were engaged for two," Harry said immediately. "I remember. It'll be 58 years in April."

The old Draco smiled. "Of all things to remember, you pick that? Why not where you keep your things"

"That's useless—but those numbers might be useful one day. And sure enough, it was! Right now!" Harry said.

As the old Draco rolled his eyes in a shockingly plebeian gesture, Draco said, "Wait, so if you're Harry Potter still—did I change my name? I can't be Draco Potter. Please, no! Harry Malfoy sounds better."

The old Draco laughed. "We kept our last names. I'm still Draco Malfoy, and this great lump is still Harry Potter. You don't need to change names when you're married. How archaic! We both agreed that our names sound better the way they are, and that hyphenating our names would be stupid."

Harry nodded. "It sure caused a ruckus though. Remember? They went insane about it for weeks."

"That's true. The newspapers couldn't figure out what to call us," the old Draco said. He continued in a high voice, "The Malfoys went out to dinner? No, that would insult Harry Potter. Using Potter would insult Draco Malfoy—oh my! What to do, what to do! I can't say Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy went out to dinner! That's just too many words!"

Harry laughed for a second and then immediately turned to stone. "And then they decided on using that horrible couples name."

The old Draco went still as well. They both turned to look at the young Draco and said, "Drarry."

"Drarry went out to dinner," Harry spat.

"The Minister met with Drarry," the old Draco jeered.

"It was horrible," Harry whispered, his eyes distant. The old Draco walked over and wrapped an arm around Harry's waist. They stared out the window as if their whole world had been shattered.

Draco was trying very hard not to laugh. "What did you do?" he asked.

The two broke out of their trance. The old Draco said, "I'm a Malfoy. We get what we want."

"And I defeated Voldemort. I may have some influence," Harry said.

"So it stopped?" Draco asked.

"Oh, it stopped," the old Draco said. He smiled but this smile was not a pleasant one. It was sinister, and Draco was impressed because he never knew he could move his face like that. Draco resolved to practice a sinister smile when he had time.

"We destroyed all of the printing presses in the United Kingdom," Harry said. "And then offered to help pay for their replacement if and only if they made an oath to never report about our private lives again. If they did write anything about us, their articles must be pre-approved."

"We gave them a very extensive list about what entailed private."

"Didn't it just say, 'Everything but when we are speaking in an advertised event,'" Harry said.

"Very extensive," the old Draco repeated.

"You're crazy," Draco said. "I go crazy in my old age."

The old Draco made a so-so gesture. "Working the same job for forty years gets pretty boring. Sometimes you need excitement."

"You call that excitement?" Draco asked.

"A rather mild form, yes," the old Draco smirked. "Harry, love, you remember that time when we went to hunt dragons?"

"I go completely insane," the younger Draco said, watching the older two reminisce.

"Of course I remember! But then we decided to start a dragon riding business," Harry nodded his head furiously. "It almost worked too."

"Yes, it was a shame we had to stop when the nearby Muggle village was completely obliterated by that unhappy Norwegian Ridgeback. He really didn't want to be ridden, did he?"

"Well, it might have been because I was testing a toddler solo run. I had just strapped in the kid—barely three years old, he was—and then that dragon just blasted away! I never saw that kid again. What did we end up doing with his mom?"

"I think we fed the family to the local thestrals after we murdered them in their sleep."

"Oh yes, that's right. We've had to do that so many times," Harry said. He sighed, "I wonder if that kid is still riding that dragon today. I'd be so jealous. Instead, we're stuck here." Harry shook his head mournfully.

"Memories," the old Draco said. "How bitter, how sweet."

They all sat around the office in peaceable silence for many minutes. Draco was looking at his lap and was supporting his head with his hands. His eyes were closed and he kept shaking his head and mouthing variants of: _they're completely insane; please don't kill me; solo toddler dragon ride; fed to thestrals; printing presses_.

And then breaking the silence was a large guffawing laugh from both Harry and the older Draco. Draco watched them with a pity that came from the knowledge that they were both insane. _I should euthanise them. They should die happy_, Draco thought. _These people are monsters_. That would be very generous of him.

But when Draco tried to pull out his wand to put these insane men out of their misery, he realised that they were talking again.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Draco. I didn't expect you would believe that. We kept trying to make it more and more ridiculous until you finally realised we were pulling your leg but you just sat there in horror," Harry said, wiping a tear from his eye.

"My god—I can understand believing the dumb Drarry thing, but burning all the printing presses? We don't even use those," the old Draco said.

"And then—the dragons—" Harry broke into laughter again.

"And a toddler dragon ride—brilliant, Harry, by the way," the old Draco said.

Draco just stared at the two with horror. "That was a joke? But how? Potter can't lie to save anything."

Harry just smiled as the older Draco looked at him proudly. Harry spoke directly to the Draco on the armchair, "I think, Draco, that you'll find I am a man of many talents."

"Oh god—was that—are you hitting on me—what the—" Draco stuttered before stopping his speech because once again he was making a fool of himself. This was wonderful.

He made a fool of himself in the first place because he didn't recognise Harry Potter. And then he was gullible enough to believe their crazy stories. And now he thought an older version of Harry Potter was hitting on him. And Draco felt it was only going to get worse.

"Have you said anything true so far?" Draco asked.

"Everything up until Drarry was true," Harry said. "We're sorry for teasing you, but we haven't done that in such a long time we couldn't resist."

"How did you even coordinate that?" Draco asked.

"When Harry came in to get your potion," the older Draco said.

"But you were gone for so little time!" Draco said. Harry grinned in response.

"Well, I didn't need to say much, did I? I told Draco that since you didn't recognise me, we had to mess with you," Harry said.

"We've done the Drarry bit before," the older Draco says. "So I knew what he meant when he said that. But the rest was just improvisation."

Harry smiled. "Once in a lifetime opportunity, I'm telling you."

"Do you ever grow up, Potter?" the younger Draco asked while opening and closing his fists as if he were practicing the gesture after losing all range of motion. "Because I honestly believed that I was going to become a lunatic in my old age that entire time."

"Oh, he grows," the older Draco drawled with a smirk that only made the younger Draco choke.

"Damn, Draco," Harry said. "Good one."

And then the older Draco slapped Harry's hand in a congratulatory high-five.

The younger Draco looked at the two in complete bewilderment, stopped opening and closing his fists, and instead opened and closed his mouth like a fish. "But—but how does—how do I even get together _with_ him? It's impossible!"

"Little Draco," Harry said, "you're looking at undeniable proof that it's not impossible."

"But Harry—_my _Harry—"

"Oh, he's _yours_?" the older Draco said with a knowing smile.

"_No_, that's _not_ what I said—the one in _my_ time—_that_ Harry and I don't even talk!" Draco spluttered.

"I can pretty much guarantee you that you're going to talk to him when you go back to your own time," Harry said. "Because you do, and we spend the next three years as best friends, then we date for seven, and then we are engaged for two and then you'll be married for 58 years before you're him and I'm me and the you that you are is the _you_ you once were."

The older Draco nods. "It makes perfect sense, Draco. That's your seventy-year plan."

"But—can't you give me any advice? Like, how to talk to him or what to do—what companies to invest in or jobs to pursue? People to dispose of? Friends to avoid?" the younger Draco asked.

"That would totally be cheating," the older Draco said. "And Harry has totally messed with my ethics, so I cannot condone that behaviour. Besides, as Headmaster of Hogwarts—"

"Wait a second! _Me_? I thought _Harry _was Headmaster!" the younger Draco cried.

Harry guffawed. "Me? As Headmaster? That's ridiculous. I'd be a terrible Headmaster. Did you even pay attention to me in school like you claim you did or still do? I got into all sorts of trouble—I'd be the worst Headmaster in the world."

"It's true," the older Draco said. "He would be. That's why I am."

"But then—what does he even do?"

"I do _dessert_," Harry said provocatively. He moved to sit on the desk, then crossed his ankles delicately and tilted his head. He smiled coyly. "Every Headmaster needs some candy to offer to students."

The younger Draco scrambled back in his chair and stood up against the wall of the Headmaster's office and spat, "What the fuck! No—there's _no_ way I would do that! I don't share my candy!"

Harry was staring earnestly at Draco with a pout. "But sharing is caring, Draco," Harry said as he hopped off of the desk and began to mosey towards the younger Draco with excessive motion.

Draco made some terrified squeaks before the older Draco broke down laughing. The younger Draco hadn't noticed him move to sit in the Headmaster's chair, but sitting in it he was—and the older Draco was laughing so hard tears were streaming down his face.

"Harry—oh god, Harry—give him a break, come back," the older Draco said while wheezing for air.

Harry stopped his sexual saunter and laughed uproariously. "I just can't! I just can't help it! You're too easy to tease!"

The younger Draco cautiously returned to his armchair when Harry was safely on the other side of the desk. "So, really—what do you do? Because you do not proposition students."

Harry chuckled. "You're right—I don't. I've only ever propositioned you. But I'm not going to tell you, because I don't want you to tell past me, because I've got to figure out my own life without some future me telling me what I'm supposed to do. Dunno if you know this, but I'm not a big fan of fate."

"And _that's_ why I didn't tell you about this," the older Draco said.

"You know what," Harry said, "that makes a lot of sense. Thank you."

The younger Draco shook his head. "So—so the whole point of this is to realise that I'm going to end up married to Harry Potter?"

The older Draco laughed. "No—the point of this was for you to realise that you're going to be happy one day. And it just happens that happiness for us—it's with Harry. All the horrible crap you're going through right now? It ends. Life gets better."

Harry gave a small smile directed at the older Draco.

"No matter how miserable you are right now—and I know you're miserable, because I remember being miserable—I want you to know that you're going to be okay. It's _okay_ to be not okay, and it's _okay_ to be depressed and feel like you're lost and drifting and that there's no hope."

The older Draco stared right into the younger Draco's eyes—piercing him as if he was paper thin.

"I'm not going to tell you that your life is going to be amazing. I'm not going to tell you that you live happily ever after because we both know that's a lie."

"Life sucks, and then you die," the younger Draco said.

The older Draco nodded. "Life sucks, and then you die. But that doesn't mean there isn't a whole lot of beautiful and amazing things out there in that life. That doesn't mean that you aren't going to have happiness and joy, love, friendship, peace and hope. You will have some pretty incredible times. But right where you were? You weren't able to see that working out. You weren't able to imagine a time where you were visible—so you were given this as a chance to see that you're going to be okay."

"You're going to be okay," Harry confirmed.

The younger Draco looks between the two of them. "But—"

"Don't worry about it," Draco said. "Take a deep breath. And just let life happen."

"Let life happen? That's a lot easier said than done, you know," the younger Draco said.

Harry nodded. "Sometimes the best choices are the hardest ones."

"Didn't Dumbledore always use to say something like that, too?" Draco said. "Something about how we need to choose what is right instead of easy? How awfully pedantic."

"He did—but we're not telling little you to do that," Harry said pointedly. "We're telling you to go with the flow."

"Go with the flow," the younger Draco repeated. "I think I can do that."

"Like a river," Harry said.

The older Draco scoffed. "You can't even swim, Harry."

"It's completely unnecessary," Harry said with the tiredness that comes from having the same discussion over and over again over seventy years. "I have no need to know."

"One day, the entire castle is going to flood and you're going to drown because you don't know how to swim and we're out of gillyweed and then I will be left alive and you will be dead because you refused to learn," Draco said. He turned to his younger self. "Teach your Harry how to swim while you still can. He gets even more stubborn in our old age."

The younger Draco nodded slowly. "Okay, sure. I'll let him know when I see him."

The older Draco brightened. "Brilliant. Now, go away. Go back home—be happy, do your thing. And this will happen in seventy years or so. Cheers!"

Harry smiled. "Bye-bye!"

And then the younger Draco watched completely dumbfounded as his older self and Harry Potter completely vanished from sight—and Draco found himself crumbled in the hallway by the Headmistress's office. He was thoroughly confused, disoriented, and tumbled to the ground.

To his delight, a much younger version of Harry Potter had seen his fall.

"You alright there, mate?" this version of Harry called.

"I'm fine," Draco said.

"You look like you just saw a boggart," Harry said with a wry smile as he offered Draco a hand.

"No," Draco said, shaking his head. "I—I think I just lost my balance."

Harry raised his eye. "You think?" he teased.

"But I've found it now," Draco said. He looked at Harry intently.

"That's good," Harry said unsurely as he let go of Draco's hand finally. "That's good. Well—I'll see you later?"

Draco nodded in agreement and watched Harry start to walk away, out of his sight. But before Harry turned the corner, Draco called out, "Wait! Where are you going?"

Harry paused, before looking over his shoulder with a hesitant smile. "Breakfast? You want to come along?"

Draco smiled.


End file.
